


Dirty Little Secrets

by AussieTransfan2015, TheBigLoserQueen



Series: Medieval AU [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Gen, Human, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Medieval, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Spy Network
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AussieTransfan2015/pseuds/AussieTransfan2015, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBigLoserQueen/pseuds/TheBigLoserQueen
Summary: Promethea and Nebula have a little meeting.





	Dirty Little Secrets

Organizing such meetings wasn't something Promethea enjoyed doing often. But when her family are placed in the firing range of some noble's insults or advances, she remained firm in the knowledge that her secrets may prove the shield to protect them.

It had been during one of her galas, one of the largest she had thrown on the summer solstice. A celebration to celebrate her own Solstice's birthday and the coming of Summer. With the extended evening, the festivities would last through until the dawn light.

It was here one particular noble over stepped herself. Whether it had been intension or a slip of the tongue, but she had insulted her husband while defending her daughter. The off-comment lead to this meeting.

She refused to have her family threatened or mocked, and she had the means to correct this grievous oversight, or squash it before it could do any harm.

She had everything in place. Her evidence, her material and a small platter. She may be intending on using her secrets to pacify or crush the intentions of her guest, but she refused to be anything less than a gracious hostess.

"My Jarl," looking up from her scrolls, Promethea watched as one of her spies slipped into the room. "Lady Nebula has arrived."

"Good. Have her greeted properly and treated as our guest, and bring her here." Nothing else was said as the spy disappeared again.

Promethea didn't want to wait long for Nebula to be escorted into the room. Nebula wasn't sure why she had been called up here by the Jarl, but she didn't say anything, just choosing to look around. As expected of Promethea, it was a nice, classy joint. Very regal and elegant... Kind of reminded her of her mother's old parlor, except less gaudy and definitely cozier.

But she knew better than to get all comfortable. She had never had business with Promethea before, so something must have been up for her to suddenly call her up. She could see Promethea sitting down at a table, sitting comfortable in one chair while another chair was empty across from her. On the table was a platter of fresh fruit, nuts, and other treats. There was even tea.

All right, so she was probably in some sort of trouble if tea was involved. Whatever it was, she just wanted to get it over with so she could go home and tend to her work. Apparently, her little underground spy network was finding some good dirt that Megatron would have found useful.

"Good afternoon," she said, tipping her head to the other as she sat in her seat, leaning back into the comfy chair.

"Good Afternoon, Lady Nebula," Promethea smiled, offering to pour her guest a cup of hot tea. Nebula paused a moment, questioning whether the tea was drugged or not, but without her answer Promethea merely poured her own cup and took a sip. "I must thank you for being so prompt at answering my invitation, I hope I am not causing too much inconvenience?"

"Not right now, no," Nebula replied, taking a small handful of grapes from their stems, "But I need to get back soon, can't leave my work for Megatron neglected."

"I understand," Promethea placed her cup down, her warm smile melting away to a stern, blank stare. "I shall be blunt. Your attendance at my daughter's celebration has left me with concerns I wish to address," taking on of the scrolls in hand she kept her eyes level with Nebula. "I know my daughter and husband well, I am very much aware you meant no disrespect to Solstice and my husband was wrong to have jumped to conclusions."

Nebula rolled her eyes. All right, so it had something to do with that party and Predaking getting ridiculously overprotective. But if she was acknowledging her husband had been wrong, then why was she here?

"However, the threat you made to my husband, regardless of his actions, still needs to be addressed."

"And the fact that your hubby attacked me first doesn't factor into this?" Nebula asked, setting down the tea.

"As I stated, he was indeed in the wrong, but with what I know and have access to, I am taking your threat of 'busting his hip' seriously."

Nebula turned her eye to the scrolls beside Promethea with her eyebrow raised.

Each one was sealed tight, Promethea's own coat of arms pressed into the wax. Some had their ribbon seal removed, meaning Promethea was intending on reading them.

"As I'm sure rumors of my family state, I have the widest spy network in all the holds," shifting through the pages, she took care to monitor her guest. "My family's own reputation is not unstained by such workings. But I can assure you, the rumors concerning my dealings are very much real. Just as were your father's dealings with drug peddlers, whore houses, bandits and even necromancers."

"Should have sent that to me, I could have used it," Nebula crossed her arms, unimpressed. She knew about all the shady shit her father had been involved in, but it would have been nice to have some proof of that back when he was still around.

"Perhaps," Promethea quirked a brow, eyeing the move and the snide comment. "However, he himself had taken precautions to keep these actions secret, even one such act to overthrow your Jarl. I will be sure to send this to Jarl Megatron. I'm sure his judgement of your family will hold more meaning than my own." Shifting the papers, she moved to the next.

Nebula sipped her tea, listening to the spy master recall each and every deed her father dealt in, but it wasn't anything she didn't already know. And she knew that even if she did say that information to Megatron, he wouldn't do anything. She had already pledged loyalty to him after she inherited her family's wealth. Besides, the dragging was grinding on her patience.

"So you have a point to hanging out all this dirty laundry?" Nebula quipped, watching Promethea turn back.

"Indeed, as I mentioned not many are aware of this, but if given to the right people would make life rather strenuous," taking her own tea, Promethea's slitted eyes locked on Nebula. "Make no mistake, I rather dislike hording such secrets and blackmails over people, but one capable of killing her parents and an unrelated noble without leaving a drop of evidence to tie her to the crimes is one to be wary of, especially when threats of harming my own family are brought to me," placing the cup down, Promethea straightened her back. "So, with that in mind, how do you wish to proceed?"

Nebula's expression didn't change. She just sort of stared at Promethea for a few moments, eyeing her up and down before settling her gaze on the scrolls. So... the past caught up to her. Not that she was surprised. She had a feeling that Shockwave knew about the murders to, but she wasn't going to confirm it. That was basically the same as a confession to Shockwave.

Though with Promethea, it seemed she didn't have much wiggle room around the truth. Not that she really cared to hide it... It was sort of one of those open secrets no one could prove. Except for clearly the Jarl sitting in front of her, waiting for an answer.

She couldn't help it. She snorted, rolling her eyes as she leaned back into the chair, her arms folding across her face.

"I try to defend myself from someone who was overly aggressive and you wanna expose my murders," she chuckled, shaking her head. "A little extreme, but I guess over-protectiveness seems to be a trait in your family."

"It is, with good reason," Promethea took another sip of tea, "but, as stated, it was your threat I am more concerned with, and I will make reparations regarding the actions of my husband," Promethea disliked repeating herself but she could see where the concern lay. "And as it may not seem to you, but few understand the scars losing a loved one leave," Promethea turned away, looking out the window. "I have lost a love once to this game of secrets, lies and intrigues, I refuse to allow it to happen again."

Gathering the open scrolls, piled together and organized, Promethea rested them on her lap and folded her hands over them.

"So, I say again, how do you wish to proceed?"

"I don't know, aren't you the one trying to threaten me?" Nebula said, raising an eyebrow and still looking rather amused by the whole thing. "Shouldn't you be the one telling me what you want me to do and crap?"

"If I was actually threatening you," Standing, Promethea closed the gap by standing beside her. "If I must state again, I despise blackmail and shrewd, underhanded tactics. Though I have proof to tie you to these three murders, there is no clear motive," holding the papers, she locked her eyes down on Nebula.

"Your parents, by any assumption, weren't the noblest of people when taking your father's dealings into account. They I could at least estimate a motive, but to kill a noble despite his ties with your father, there is no clear motive for his death too. And that's disregarding the nature and violence he suffered upon his death." Recalling the details her spies had collected on the late Lord Acid Pit - a deplorable man even worse than Nebula's father - feeling the same bile rise from recalling the note of his...manhood being removed and replaced down his throat, there was no clear connection to Nebula.

"So what, you think I just go around murdering people because it's fun?" Nebula demanded, not at all intimidated by the much larger and definitely more powerful woman standing beside her chair. If anything, she just leaned back into her seat and took a deep breath. "They deserved it. And as far as I'm concerned, I did the world a favor. So why don't you just tell me what exactly you want from me already?"

Promethea remained quiet, remained stern. It was obvious there was something more going on than what her sources had revealed. Instead, she walked back around, took her seat and locked eyes once more.

"Enlighten me then," placing the papers aside, she folded her hands. "By all accounts, these murders and their natures prove your capabilities. You are capable of killing and any such violent threats can be carried out. The fact you have gone all these years and not once shown an ounce of guilt, made clear by your reasoning, you are very much capable of felling one much like my husband. That I cannot stand for and thus, I must ensure his safety," she left a pause, noting Nebula's increasing hostility. "Unless there is something you wish to add?"

Nebula was quiet for a few moments. All the memories were starting to come back, crawling up into the back of her mind. The murders, the abuse, the neglect... that man. That disgusting waste of oxygen that had been allowed to live on this earth as long as he had. She laughed once, still not believing she was having to recall everything all at once. But she was not about to sit here and be accused of killing for sport. Maybe that was just her pride talking, but Promethea wasn't going to get away with using this against her. Not in a million years. 

"Can I ask you something, Lady Promethea?"

Promethea quirked a brow, the subtle change in Nebula's voice and the fact she had addressed her by her title alerted her to the impending answer. But rather than falter, Promethea nodded and allowed her to proceed with her question.

"Do you know what it feels like to be told by your own father you were a mistake?" she asked. "Or what it feels like when your mother pretends not to hear anything when her husband is either slapping you across the face or insulting your existence? You know what it's like to have someone there for you one day, only to have them be gone the next because your father decided that they weren't needed anymore?"

She hated thinking about her shitty parents. When her father wasn't running around cheating on his wife or doing these back door deals and other shady shit, he was calling her a mistake or a disgrace and smacking her. All her mother did was turn a blind eye and cry to herself. That woman didn't even raise her. Sunbeam, just a housemaid, did. Sunbeam was the only one Nebula had ever felt any sort of familial connection with. She was what her mother should have been.

And then her bastard father fired Sunbeam because she got too old for him and he wanted some fresher, younger maids to sleep with. Then... Then he started inviting his friends over. Acid Pit was one of them. That dirty, filthy freak...

"Do you know what it’s like to be a kid, haven’t even had your first blood yet, and there’s a grown man lusting after you?" she chuckled, though there wasn't any humor to be found in her tone. "Do you know what it’s like to be scared in your own house of your shitty father's friend and you don’t really know why? Do you know what it feels like when this same man likes to give you these really tight hugs and have his hand ‘accidentally’ touch your ass and you’re only eleven, so you can’t say anything? Do you know what it’s like to be sixteen and raped in your own bed and it’s all because your parents decided to leave you alone with this man?"

She eyed Promethea's face. It was blank, no emotion, nothing. She hadn't said a word or even made a sound. The older woman just stared at her, quietly sitting and almost waiting for her to continue. She probably had no idea how to even answer her, which was fine. No one ever knew how to answer her.

"Judging by your silence, no. You don't know." Nebula leaned back in her seat, a humorless smirk crossing her lips for a second before her expression relaxed a bit, shaking her head. "Tell your spies to write to put that in the books for you. And maybe try being more polite before accusing people of murdering for kicks."

Promethea stood. She didn't speak, didn't say a word, but she gathered her papers and stood before Nebula again. Nebula eyed the woman, waiting to hear what she was going to say but only found her offered hand.

Nebula didn't say anything, more silence filling up the room. Her eyes darted between the hand and Promethea's face, who just kept the same neutral expression she had on before. Cautiously, she accepted her hand and stood on her insistence. Then, prompting her into a state of confusion, Promethea offered her the same papers containing the murder evidence. Staring at the papers, Promethea remained firm and offered them again. Seeing no other threat, Nebula took hold on the papers.

"I may not understand, but what I do understand is no parent should ever treat their child is such a disgusting way," Promethea stepped back and left the papers with Nebula. "I will not offer false words, I apologize for recalling such memories but you have allayed my fears. Capable you may be, you had true reason to act as such," gesturing to the papers, she nodded. "Within is the evidence I had collected, do as you wish with them, I have no need for them."

"So what? That's it?" Nebula asked, watching the older woman just hand over what was precious to her trade.

"Capable as you are, my dear, I would have thought you were bright enough to see an opportunity as this," a slight smirk pulled as she watched Nebula. "Whether you wish to see this as an apology or as a business opportunity, what I offer is beneficial to us both."

Nebula raised an eyebrow. "Business opportunity?"

"I am well aware of your enterprise in the lower manners of the holds," Promethea added, squaring back to Nebula. "Little birds and mice capable of slipping through cracks and seeing what some of my seasoned spies may miss." Offering her seat again, Promethea glided back and sat before her guest. "And thus, I propose a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Nebula sat, forcing her mind to stay on track. Primus, just what the hell had happened? Well, no, she had a bit of an idea just why Promethea might have surrendered the information to her... Probably felt bad or something. While she hated being pitied, she would let it go this one time if it meant she could burn the evidence. And this was to be a legitimate deal, she needed to keep her cards close.

"A mutual exchange of information," Promethea smiled, grabbing another scroll. "Should I come into the possession of information regarding a particular noble, or family, or enterprise that may be useful to you, I would be glad to trade it for a mutual exchange." She could see Nebula was skeptical with her eyebrow raised high. "Worry not, I wouldn't want to get on Megatron's bad side, so let’s say we keep him off the table. Information regarding only the nobility of his hold and no one from his inner circle nor himself. Is that acceptable?"

"... That sounds reasonable," she said, thinking it over. Besides, that sort of information (if Shockwave didn't already have it) would have been more than valuable to Megatron. He liked knowing about the rats running around his court. "I can provide you from what I hear from my spies. I'm sure you don't have many ears down with the commoners."

"Unfortunately, no," Promethea scowled. "Many of my spies have tried but given they themselves come from middle class, they can't blend as well."

"Well, lucky for you, I like to hang out with drunks and whores and petty thieves trying to make ends meet," Nebula said, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. "So you'll give me info on stupid nobles and I'll give you dirt on sewer rats."

"Then, we have a deal," smiling, Promethea offered Nebula a minor, yet detailed, contract. No doubt the older noble wished to cover her tracks. Nebula skimmed the document, reading each clause to ensure she was protected as much as Promethea was. There weren't any loopholes nor anything that would bring concern. "I can have my notary draw up a copy of this if you wish, otherwise I have signed my part of the agreement." Directing Nebula to her eloquent signature below, she offered her a quill. "Now, given my lack of foresight regarding the nature of your past, I can't in good conscience allow my own missteps to go unanswered. I am a woman of my word and thus, I wish to offer some form of compensation."

"Compensation?"

"Indeed. I admire a strong woman such as yourself, but one should not underestimate the strain such memories have, thus I wish to show a sign of professionalism with compensation. Ask, and if it is in my power to do so, and not detrimental to myself, I will gladly give it to you."

Nebula raised an eyebrow. Sure, the memories were unpleasant, but nothing she couldn't handle. Still, an offer like this didn't come around often... She might as well take some sort of advantage of the offer while it there. Even if she only asked for something small.

"How you get your precious hubby to apologize and we’ll call it even?" Nebula said, a bit happy at a bit at the thought of the man being made to apologize to her. It would no doubt be a bitter pill for him to swallow and she would enjoy every second of it.

Promethea had fully prepared for an over-exorbitant request, yet had been pulled short by such a simple request. She didn't show it, but she was indeed surprised. However, she could see the workings behind such a request and saw no reason to delay.

"As you wish," she smiled, turning to the door. "Guard! Fetch my husband," the call sent the guard standing outside of the door running off. "He won't be a moment. More tea?"

And sure as her words, a thundering charge echoed out in the hall, doors flying open and the massive form of her husband practically barreled through.

"Beloved! Are you..." he paused, seeing both his wife and Nebula sitting calmly with tea. What exactly had happened? "What is going on?"

"Oh shush, King," Promethea cooed, moving to her heaving husband. A light touch and a peck on his cheek had the large man calmed. "I am concluding a small business deal with Lady Nebula," the mere mention of her name had Predaking close to snarling, seeing the flaunting woman stand from her seat. "However, given the nature of your last meeting, there is one matter left to resolve."

Predaking stood confused but seeing Promethea's stern gaze and the smirk crawling across Nebula's painted lips had the giant reeling.

"Absolutely not!" he hissed, glaring down on Nebula. "I will not apologize for defending our daughter!"

"Oh, Predaking please," Promethea scoffed. "You're acting like a child, worse than how Solstice can be," taking his hand, she sighed. "Solstice is capable of defending herself and took no offence to...whatever transpired between her and Lady Nebula. You were rude in interrupting them, thus you are to apologize for your undignified manner."

"You heard her, hubby," Nebula said, smirking and enjoying how the man looked ready to pop a blood vessel. "I think you owe me an apology for your rather rude behavior at the party, don't you think?"

Predaking was prepared to charge, he wanted to snarl and snap at this crass and infuriating woman, but Promethea's grip tightened. Her eyes were hard, dare say he could see her anger rising. The slits of her eyes narrowing as her draconic side glimpsed through. As much as this woman ground his patience and enflamed his rage, he could not bear the idea of upsetting his beloved wife. Not after how long it had taken to unite with her.

Bottling his rage, difficult for the emotional-driven man, Predaking stood straight and approached Nebula in a calm manner. His lips twitched, wanting so badly to his and snarl, but relented and took to a low, kneeling bow. Like a knight before his master.

"Please, Lady Nebula," he choked, "Please accept my...humble apologies, for my crass and... unnecessary behavior I had shown you at my daughter's celebrations." He shook as he tried suppressing his anger, trying to keep his composure. He dared not look up, for any sight of her prideful, amused smirk would drive him over into a rage.

Oh, this was beyond satisfying. She was almost tempted to make him kiss her feet, but she decided that this was more than enough. The old bastard would be sour about this for weeks. Having to bow his head so low to beg for forgiveness towards someone he thought was beneath him... She was doing everything she could to not laugh.

"I think I can let you off," she said, that smirk still prominent on her face. Then she stuck out her hand to him; she had always wanted to try this and this seemed like a good opportunity as any. "Kiss my hand and you're forgiven."

His body tensed, mild shakes showing his anger growing more. Was there no end to this vile wretch’s insults?! None deserved more, only his wife would ever receive such a sign. That and he refused to betray his wife in such a manner. Glancing back, he could see Promethea watching, her mask composed. But even she could see the request in his yearning, asking for her to end it now. But, Promethea refused his request and allowed him to proceed.

Reluctant, as if her hand burnt him like acid, Predaking rose to place a chaste peck on her knuckles. He would do no more.

"I trust this apology is satisfactory?" Promethea's voice approached, coming to stand beside her husband.

"It's perfect, he can go and probably wash his lips with soap," Nebula chuckled, watching as the man stood with that sore look still on his face. Her smile brightened, like a child who had just gotten away with doing something bad. She considered it a personal victory over the man, one that he would never be able to reclaim from her.

And that was probably worth the whole trip she had to make out here today.

"Now, unless there is anything else you wish to discuss?" Promethea knew Nebula was pleased with her request, given from the smirk across her face. "I shall have my notary draw up a copy and ensure you are escorted safely back home."

Promethea called the steward back in. Nebula bid her goodbye, though before shooting Predaking a victorious smirk. She could see he looked ready to explode, which only made her chuckle. Oh, she was looking forward to bragging about this. Then, satisfied with the scrolls in hands, she followed the steward out.

"Why?" it was all Predaking asked, standing and looming over Promethea.

"It was her request," Promethea shrugged, "And honestly, after your display I would have assumed you would be required to offer an apology-" Promethea choked, wrenched from the ground into her husband's arms. His eyes were stern, locked and annoyed. Promethea was surprised, shocked and frozen. Predaking never handled her in such a manner.

"Never. Again." His voice ground like gravel, anger turning to annoyance. "Only you will ever receive my respect. I refuse to stoop so low to same carnal-driven, vile woman again."

"Predaking..." her heart raced, her face dusted pink from his rough-handling and commanding tone.

"I swear to show you just how displeased I am." 

* * *

Solstice sighed, kicking back in her room. It had been a long day crossing from the neighboring hold, but what made it stranger was the absence of her mother and father. Her brothers had said their father was called in to Promethea earlier that day, but they hadn't seen them since then.

Hearing her door open turned her from her thoughts, looking up to find her mother. Her clothing appeared as before but her hair was disheveled.

"Mother? What ha..." words cut short, Solstice stood stunned as her mother embraced her suddenly. It wasn't uncommon for her mother to hug her, nor show affection, but when her mother started shaking and a small choke slipped through she grew concerned. "Mum?"

"I love you," she cooed, pulling Solstice closer. "I will never, ever hurt nor let anyone else, ever, hurt you."

She had never made such an omission before. And nothing truly rocked her but something must've been said or she had seen something to make her act like this. She knew her mother was a private person, given her skill and nature as a spy master, so she didn't ask. Instead, Solstice drew her mother in, returning the hug and accepting its warmth.

"I know. And I promise too." 

* * *

Nebula sat on her chair in front of the fireplace, watching the documents burn against the woods. She had been so careful, but she supposed that someone must have heard something somewhere at the right moment to connect her to all of this. Still, Promethea only seemed to know she organized the murders... Which was half true. She had hitmen take out her parents. She killed Acid Pit herself.

That was probably the most satisfying she had ever done. Predaking bowing to her only came second.

At least her secret was safe for now... Until Shockwave needed to blackmail her for whatever reason. But at least this evidence was gone. She had nothing to worry about for now. Maybe she should have been grateful Promethea pitied her... but she wasn't. She didn't want to be pitied. She just wanted no one to bring this up ever again. Because then she would have to remember everything.

She just had to forget about it again. But this time, she did have some compensation. This spy trading stuff would work out nicely. At least she had that.


End file.
